


The Silent Man

by Laura JV (jacquez)



Series: in the long night [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), author plays fast and loose with Marvel canon, author plays fast and loose with Norse mythology, i'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 16:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13034940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacquez/pseuds/Laura%20JV
Summary: Prince Loki is searching for a man who cannot speak. Gudrun just hopes he means the man no harm.





	The Silent Man

Gudrun and three other women set to work on a still in the ship’s galley. Gudrun has never built a still before, but she has operated one since she came of age, in her father’s distillery. She learned to repair them with her own hands, and building one is not so different. King Thor will approve, she is sure, both for the sedating qualities of drink and the disinfective properties of the alcohol. They have no soul-forge, no real healing facilities — nothing but the inadequate contents of the ship’s small infirmary. It is outfitted for the sorts of injuries one sustains in vigorous sexual activity, not in a world-destroying battle. First-aid supplies only go so far, with sword wounds and burns to the bone.

Prince Loki raps his knuckles on the door, and they all turn towards him. He draws the eye, even when he does not wear his power like a cloak. He is a comely man who has always seemed, to Gudrun, faintly alien, as if he is not quite easy with his place at King Thor’s side. “Have you seen a man,” he asks, “one who cannot speak, with silver hair, among the refugees?”

“Yes,” says Alfa, wiping her dirty hands on her skirts. “I do not know his name, but he is very tall, and very strong.”

“He is shy,” puts in Gudrun. “He hides his face from Heimdall, and blushes if a maid comes too near.”

“Can you take me to him?” Prince Loki asks, and he smiles. He looks older when he smiles, almost kind. She is sure he is not kind, but the smile carries something of his mother about it. She met his mother once, years ago now, and Queen Frigga’s smile had been the same. It kindles a warmth in her towards the prince, for all that she knows he is treacherous.

“Go on,” says Alfa, her hands back at her tools. “We can finish up. Your diagrams are very clear.”

Gudrun cleans her hands and leads Prince Loki through the ship. She worries that perhaps he means the man harm, although — his smile said perhaps not. “The silent man has been helping with the children when his strength is not needed elsewhere,” she ventures. “He is strong, but he is rather clumsy, and he seems to like caring for children.”

“He does,” Prince Loki says. “He has always liked children. I have seen him run for hours, carrying them, never tiring of their play.” His voice is warm with affection.

“Yes,” Gudrun says, satisfied now that the prince seeks only to assure himself of the well-being of a friend, or perhaps a servant from his household.

They reach the nursery, and the silent man has a child in his lap. He listens to the child read to him, his head cocked to the side, his soft, wide mouth half-smiling. He looks up and sees them, and at the sight of Prince Loki his face suffuses with longing. He sets the child down on her feet and the prince crosses the room, swift as thought, and the silent man presses his face into the prince’s chest.

“Do you want to stay in this form, my son?” says the prince. “Or shall I return you to yourself?” The silent man shudders violently, and Gudrun presses her lips together to keep her mouth from gaping open. “Hush,” Prince Loki says. “Hush. Just a moment.”

He gathers his power — Gudrun can feel it, a hiss and pull in the air — and the silent man shimmers under his hands, shimmers and vanishes. When the prince releases his power once more, all that is left is a — a horse with eight legs, such as she saw King Odin riding once, in a meadow under the sun. The horse is magnificent, tall and strong and silver-grey, and he noses Prince Loki all over. “I’ve missed you, too,” the prince says, and swings himself up to the horse’s broad back. He looks down at Gudrun, and he is smiling again. “Thank you,” he says. “What is your name?”

“Gudrun,” she says, and she can hear breathlessness making her voice squeak, and is ashamed of it. 

“Gudrun,” he says. “My sincerest thanks. This is my son Sleipnir, who I had feared lost. I owe you a favor.” His regard frightens her, more than a little; she cannot understand what he means that this giant, beautiful animal is his son—

“Thank you, my lord,” she gasps, finally, and it seems to satisfy him. He runs a hand over Sleipnir’s shining neck.

“Come,” he says. “Let’s go visit your uncle Thor,” and Sleipnir prances, and snorts, and in a rush of wind they are gone.


End file.
